


bob's your uncle

by daisylincs



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, British/American Differences, F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Semantics, birthday fic, but better late than never right?, happy birthday grace!!, happy haps, i know this is late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: “That’s so weird,” Jemma said, getting this faraway look in her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s weird, Fitz?”“Well, yeah,” he said, folding his arms. “But it’s also kinda cool. We speak the same language, but also… not, you know?”“Exactly!” Jemma said, beaming at him.Oh, no. Daisy recognised that look in her eyes. Inbothof their eyes, actually.Thetime-to-learn-all-about-a-new-thinglook.“Guys, no -” she started, but it was too late.“I’ve always found it fascinating how regional differences affect the perception of linguistics,” Jemma said. “I wonder how deeply they’re rooted in the brain? Fitz, do you think they could grow to affect the biopsychological phenomenon of the intrinsic perception of home?”“It’s not impossible,” Fitz said. “We’d have to find out about spread, and distribution, and commonality before we could make any definite theories, but -”They turned around as one to look at Daisy and Lincoln.“Oh, no,” Daisy said, turning around to give her boyfriend a dismayed look. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	bob's your uncle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everythingirl44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everythingirl44/gifts).



> Happy (late) birthday, Grace!! I hope you had a really good one ♥ Thank you so much for being such a lovely internet friend - and for being my partner in all things Staticquake!! I really do love and appreciate you a lot ♥♥ 
> 
> This fic was totally inspired by all our conversations about British/American differences - I have never encountered a weirder, yet more fascinating topic. Isn’t it just so strange how we speak the same language, but so differently? It’s kind of awesome, actually - just like you, my friend! So I really hope you enjoy this little bit of silly semantical fluff <3

Daisy blew her hair out of her face and dropped down onto the pavement, exhausted. Behind her, she heard Jemma blow out a long sigh. “I’m just about ready to go home for a cup of tea, what do you think?”

“Great idea!” Fitz agreed from the mouth of the alley, snapping his case of scientific toys shut. “I think I still have some of those chocolate biscuits my mum sent, so we can share those, if you want.”

Daisy opened one eye, squinting over at him. “Don’t you mean cookies?”

Fitz and Jemma both blinked at her. “What?”

She propped herself up, giving them a weird look. “You know, cookies. Chocolate cookies.”

Fitz and Jemma exchanged glances. “Um, is this one of your American things?” Jemma asked carefully. 

Daisy’s jaw dropped. “You guys don’t know what a cookie is?”

“No, of course we know what a cookie is,” Fitz said, rolling his eyes. “What do we look like, stupid?”

Jemma nodded sagely from beside him. “A cookie,” she said, “is just another word for a biscuit.”

“Uh, no, it’s not,” Daisy said, giving them an incredulous look. “Biscuits and cookies are, like, totally different. Cookies are the sweet, flat ones you get with chocolate chips in. Biscuits are...” She chewed her lip. How did you explain what a biscuit was? 

“Biscuits are like little round breads,” she said, gesturing with her hands. “You know, with a golden crust and a crumbly inside.”

Fitz and Jemma, who had been watching her with mystified expressions up until then, perked up at that. “Oh, you mean a scone,” Jemma said, smiling.

“What’s a… you know what, never mind,” she said, shaking her head and putting a hand up to her ear. “Lincoln, can you get a tray of biscuits ready for us when we come back to base?”

The comms crackled in her ear, and she could just picture the surprised look on her boyfriend’s face. “Biscuits?” he echoed, clearly not expecting that.

“Yeah, you know, those little bread things you have with gravy,” she said, biting back a laugh at the absolutely disgusted look on Fitz’s face - “why would you have _gravy_ with a _biscuit?”_

“I know what a biscuit is, Daisy,” Lincoln said, and she could practically hear him rolling his eyes in that affectionate-exasperated way he had. 

A little grin tugged at her lips at the soft familiarity of it. “I know, I know,” she said, biting her lip to keep the smile from getting too soppy. “It’s just that these two -” she gestured at Fitzsimmons - “don’t.”

“Really?” Lincoln sounded even more surprised now.

“Really,” she said, giving Fitz and Jemma a meaningful look. (They rolled their eyes in perfect synchrony.) 

“Okay, well,” Lincoln said, his voice still surprised. “I’ll have some biscuits waiting for you when you get back.” 

She could feel the affectionate smile pulling at her lips again. “Thanks,” she said, touching her comm lightly and letting the fuzzy, happy feeling fill her body.

Fitz’s voice broke into her thoughts. “When you’re _quite_ finished being sappy,” he said drily, “shall we get back to the base?” 

“Oh, _you’re one_ to talk, Mr Jemma-Simmons-Is-My-Whole-World,” Daisy huffed. “But okay, yeah. Let’s get back to base.”

_(a short amount of time later)_

“That’s a biscuit?” Fitz asked, pointing at the gravy-covered pastry in horror. “Why would you _do_ that?”

“Uh, because that’s how you eat them,” Daisy said, reaching for one of the biscuits and kissing Lincoln on the cheek on her way past. 

He caught her around the waist, pulling her into his side with a soft, “missed you.” 

She felt her whole body go soft as she leaned into him, tilting her head up to smile at him. “You can’t come on _every_ mission with me,” she reminded him, even though a part of her kind of wished he could. “You’re needed here, too.” 

He ducked his head to press his forehead against hers. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But that doesn’t stop me from missing you.” 

“Mmm,” she said, kissing his cheek again and feeling herself smiling like an idiot. God, she was almost as bad as Fitz and Jemma, wasn’t she? 

Fitz and Jemma! She had completely forgotten about them… they had to have noticed, right?

But apparently not. They were still studying the biscuits in morbid fascination. 

“They’re almost like scones,” Jemma said in her Dr Simmons voice, walking around the tray to inspect it from all angles. “Except for the fact that they’re floating in gravy.” 

“And that’s _horrible,”_ Fitz said emphatically. 

“Tosh, really,” Jemma agreed, poking one of the biscuits with a mildly queasy expression. 

Lincoln snickered, his breath stirring Daisy’s hair. “I’m sorry, did you just say the word _tosh?”_

Jemma looked up. “Why, what’s wrong with it?” 

“Nothing, I guess,” Daisy said, poking Lincoln in the chest. “And it’s not like _you_ can talk, Mr Safe-As-Houses.” 

“One time,” he said, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “I say that _one_ time, and now I get mocked for the rest of eternity -” 

“We just don’t use the word _tosh_ much here,” Daisy explained, ignoring him. “Um… what does it mean, exactly?” 

Fitz was surprised enough that he also looked up from the biscuits. “Are you being serious?” he asked.

Daisy spread her arms. “Totally!” 

Fitz and Jemma exchanged glances. 

“Well -” Fitz began,

“The word _tosh -”_ Jemma continued,

“Means _nonsense_ or _rubbish,”_ Fitz finished. 

“It’s slang we use quite often in Britain,” Jemma added helpfully. 

“Huh,” Daisy said. “I did _not_ know that. Guess that saying about learning one new thing every day is true! Wait… you guys _do_ have that saying in England, right?” 

“Well, first of all, I’m _Scottish,”_ Fitz said pointedly. “There’s a difference between English and British, you know. English is Simmons. That is, from England specifically. British, on the other hand, can be from England, Wales _or_ Scotland.” 

“Thing number two for today,” Lincoln murmured into Daisy’s hair. 

She chuckled, agreeing. 

“Oh, while we’re at it,” Jemma said, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve always wondered what on earth you Americans mean when you say something is _tea._ For the longest time, I thought you meant the hot beverage, but obviously you didn’t, because -” 

“No, _tea_ means something is interesting, or exciting,” Daisy explained. “Or, you know, for gossip.” 

“But why would you call it _tea?”_ Jemma wondered.

Daisy twisted her head to look at Lincoln. “Uh…” 

_“I_ don’t know,” he said, his eyebrows flying up. “I studied _medicine,_ not linguistics.” 

“No clue,” Daisy said, turning back around to Fitz and Jemma. 

“That’s so weird,” Jemma said, getting this faraway look in her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s weird, Fitz?” 

“Well, yeah,” he said, folding his arms. “But it’s also kinda cool. We speak the same language, but also… not, you know?” 

“Exactly!” Jemma said, beaming at him. 

Oh, no. Daisy recognised that look in her eyes. In _both_ of their eyes, actually.

The _time-to-learn-all-about-a-new-thing_ look.

“Guys, no -” she started, but it was too late. 

“I’ve always found it fascinating how regional differences affect the perception of linguistics,” Jemma said. “I wonder how deeply they’re rooted in the brain? Fitz, do you think they could grow to affect the biopsychological phenomenon of the intrinsic perception of home?” 

“It’s not impossible,” Fitz said. “We’d have to find out about spread, and distribution, and commonality before we could make any definite theories, but -” 

They turned around as one to look at Daisy and Lincoln. 

“Oh, no,” Daisy said, turning around to give her boyfriend a dismayed look. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

_(a long time later)_

“Well, that was… long,” Daisy said when Fitz and Jemma _finally_ finished, flopping back onto the couch. “And exhausting.”

Lincoln nudged her legs out of the way so he could sit next to her. (She promptly dropped them into his lap.) 

“Well, yeah,” he said, his lips quirking as he looked down at her. “But also very informative.” 

“Of course you think it’s informative,” she grumbled, swatting at his shoulder and missing completely. “Nerd.” 

“Hey, you’ll be thanking me in just a second,” he said, ducking as she tried to swat at him again.

She squinted across at him, furrowing her brow like she didn’t feel like there was nowhere she’d rather be. “And why is that?” 

“Well,” he said, and there was something distinctly mischievous in his blue gaze, “just _imagine_ the look on Hunter’s face when we tell him he’s a plug-ugly, airy-fairy, daft-as-a-bush old pillock?” 

Daisy gaped at him for a second, then clapped her hands over her mouth. _“Oh my God, Lincoln,”_ she whisper-yelled, imagining it. “You’re a genius!” 

“I’m ever so chuffed that you think so,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” she said, “because that’s an _awesome_ idea.” 

“No,” he corrected, his gaze fully mischievous now, “it’s a _wicked_ idea.” 

“Oh, shut _up,”_ she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Bollocks,” he said, nudging her hip. “You don’t want me to shut up.” 

“Lincoln…” she said warningly. 

“Cheers,” he said cheekily.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” she said, dropping her head back against the couch with a groan. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I’m going to drive you completely bonkers.” 

She sat up straight. “All right, that’s it,” she said. “If you say one more British thing…” 

“What, you’re going to throw a wobbly?” he asked, giving her a shit-eating grin that he had totally learned from Hunter. “Seems a little dodgy to me…” 

“Lincoln. Campbell,” she said, getting off the couch and stalking over till she was standing right in front of him. “If you don’t shut up, I am going to quake your ass into the wall.” 

“Well, that would be a shame,” he said innocently. “Because I think you look positively smashing tonight.” 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked suspiciously. “Because I can’t remember what that’s supposed to mean.” 

“It _means,”_ he said, and his gaze had gone all soft, “that you look fantastic. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Incredible. And not just tonight - you always do.” 

Daisy wasn’t normally a fan of compliments about her appearance, but… she’d take this. 

“Alright,” she said, feeling her scowl melt into a smile that was all soft and warm as she sat down right next to him, placing one hand gently on his chest. “You’re forgiven.” 

“Well, good,” he said, turning around so they were facing each other properly. “Because I really quite fancy you.” 

She punched him in the shoulder, but there was no heat behind it. 

“That one I can remember,” she murmured, shifting so she was sitting in his lap. “And I really quite fancy you, too.” 

She didn’t think she had ever seen him smile in a way that was quite so, well, _happy._

She got it, though. Totally. One hundred percent. That was exactly how she was feeling right now - like she might melt into a puddle of golden, glowy happiness.

There was just the one thing she could think of that would make her even happier.

Leaning forward, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, soft and slow and warm.

_Perfect._


End file.
